Page 6 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Celeste

Not even twenty-four hours after I opened up about my darkest desires to my boss, I find myself back in my office, staring at the black envelope sitting dead center on my desk.

My heart takes off like it’s late for a flight.

It’s not just the sleek black paper or the deliberate angle. It’s that the mail hasn’t arrived yet.

No packages, no memos, no blueprints.

Just this.

It’s sleek and minimal, but without a return address. No logo. Nothing to indicate who it’s from or why it’s here.

I reach out and brush my knuckles across the paper. It’s smooth with textured edges, as if it were handmade. I tilt it toward the light and catch the faintest glint of embossing.

There’s a wax seal just like the woman on the podcast said hers had.

Oh, God.

Is this it?

I swallow hard, wedge a finger under the seal, and break it open.

Inside is a matte-black card.

Celeste,

Your presence has been requested.

That’s it, except for a QR code printed neatly at the bottom.

Fumbling, I dig out my phone, open the camera, and hover it over the code with fingers that don’t quite want to cooperate.

The webpage is just a plain white screen with black serif text that matches the card’s simplicity.

Friday.

9 PM sharp.

Included is an address I don’t recognize.

When my knees go soft, I grip the edge of the desk to stay upright.

I look around as if someone might jump out and yell, “Gotcha!”

Maybe HR is running a social experiment, and I’m the unlucky test subject.

But no one is there .

Folding the card in half, I shove it into my pant pocket and try not to hyperventilate before I push back from my desk, yank open the door, and speed-walk toward Lilian’s office.

I’m going to play it cool. Totally composed.

Just a woman on a mission.

One very calm, definitely not-about-to-lose-her-shit woman on a mission.

I’m in the hallway heading toward Lilian’s office when I come to a sudden stop.

A tall man in a dark suit stands outside her door, casually shaking her hand. He’s older, with neatly trimmed gray hair and impeccable posture.

Tom Kingsley.

CEO of Kingsley & Co, one of the leading architectural firms in the country.

Lilian stands opposite him, calm as always, shoulders back, chin raised.

“This will cause an argument between us, Tom. You don’t want me as an enemy.”

He covers her hand with both of his and laughs, like her words amused him more than they should have. “Never, Lilian. I value your friendship too much.”

I take a step back, unsure if I should be witnessing this at all, when they both turn and see me.

“Ah, and here she is.” Kingsley throws his arms out. “Ms. Morgan, it’s good to see you again.”

My returning smile is polite, nothing more.

I extend my hand and step closer. “Mr. Kingsley. Likewise.”

Oh, and there it is. That slow sweep of my body.

A smile spreads at the corner of his mouth, and I fight the shudder. “You’ve been doing very impressive work. ”

I pause a beat before answering. “Thank you.”

It’s the only thing I can think of saying. I have no idea what game he’s playing, but I know I don’t want to be a piece on his board.

He seems satisfied either way before he glances back at Lilian, nods to her, and walks away without saying another word.

Lilian turns and heads into her office without acknowledging the tension hanging behind him.

After a moment, I follow because I have questions. Lots of them. Both about the invitation in my pocket and whatever the hell just happened.

I sink into the seat across from her. “What was that?”

She taps her pen against the desk, once, then twice. “Tom is trying to steal you from us.”

I cock my head like I didn’t hear her properly. “Sorry, what?”

“I told you this was going to happen. You’re in demand, Celeste.”

I glance toward the hallway where he disappeared seconds ago. “He’s going to offer me a job?”

“He plans to, yes.” She folds her hands in front of her. “It’s international commissions. High-profile clients. He’s working on projects in London, Dubai, and Singapore. Big contracts. Major exposure. If you say yes, your name will be everywhere.”

I should be thrilled.

I should be excited.

Instead, the heavy weight of dread settles in all the places where those feelings should be.

Lilian warned me this day would come. She told me once—quietly, over drinks after a brutal client meeting—that when the Sterling Vista Tower wrapped up, everything would change. And it has. That project transformed everything for me. My name is out there now.

“He came to you first?” I finally ask, chewing my bottom lip as I mull it over.

She nods once. “As a courtesy.”

“And you’re telling me because...?”

“Because you deserve to know. And a man like Tom Kingsley has a certain way of springing things on you. He’s used to getting want he wants.”

It’s rare to see a flicker of anger ignite in her silver gaze. She’s usually so stoic.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

Her eyes drop for just a beat before meeting mine again. “Tom and I have known each other for a very long time. These circles we run in always have the same faces.”

I shift in my seat and fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t want it.”

“Don’t ever feel like you’re stuck here out of loyalty to me, Celeste. More than anyone, I want to see you accomplish everything you set your mind to.”

I know she’s telling the truth. Lilian would never hold it against me if I moved on, but I’m satisfied with my career and my place here.

“Your parents would want you to accept.”

My stomach tightens.

Lilian knows the kind of pressure I was raised under. The kind of expectations that weren’t based on happiness, but on achievement.

“Lilian, they’ll always want more. If I accepted the offer, they’d ask why it took me so long. If I ran my own firm tomorrow, they’d ask why it wasn’t global already. Whatever I do, it won’t be enough. ”

Her expression shifts to something gentler. “I’m sure they’re proud of you.”

“Are they?” I murmur. “Does it even matter?”

For years, I chased their approval like it was oxygen. I pushed myself to the point of exhaustion trying to earn praise that never came.

My first failure was not choosing medicine like they did.

Through my early twenties, I tried so damn hard to prove them wrong.

Through the long nights, awards, recognition, magazine features, endless hours, and little sleep. Through years of giving my entire self to this career.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

They always found something to pick apart, something to critique, something to hold over me like a red mark on my record.

It was never enough. Not because I wasn’t enough, but because their standards were impossible.

Somewhere along the way, I became someone I’m proud of, and that matters more than anything they’ll never say.

“I’m not interested in the offer,” I tell her, unwavering.

With a sharp nod, she ends the conversation and moves on. “Now, were you coming to see me about something?”

Oh, God.

A sheen of sweat prickles my back.

The invitation is still in my pocket, and I can feel the edge of it pressing against my thigh.

My throat goes dry. “I think…” I swallow and try again. “I think my office is bugged.”

Her eyes widen. “Bugged? ”

Nodding emphatically, I whisper, “Yes. As in surveillance. Cameras. Microphones. The works.”

“Your office isn’t bugged, Celeste.”

“Then explain this.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out the envelope before placing it on her desk.

Nothing.

Not a flicker.

Not a twitch.

Her eyes drop to the envelope. “Your office isn’t bugged.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I just got the world’s most cryptic invitation dropped directly onto my desk.”

“I left it there.”

Okay, what is happening?

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

Lilian just sits back and watches my brain reboot.

“You what?” I shriek.

“I got you on the guest list.”

My entire body locks.

“You—Lilian—What the hell ?”

“Celeste. Breathe.”

I try. It’s not going well.

“You got me on the list?” My voice jumps a full octave. “You arranged this?”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Without telling me?”

Her brow lifts. “Would you have agreed if I had?”

I clamp my mouth shut because the answer is obvious .

No. I wouldn’t have.

I would have smiled politely and declined. I would have overthought it to death, come up with a dozen reasons it was a bad idea, and let fear sit in the driver’s seat.

Slumping back in the chair, I force my brain to keep up.

“I know where you are right now. That place where everything technically looks right from the outside, but something still feels off.” A quiet pressure gathers in my chest as she rests her hands on the desk.

“I won’t go into the details, but I’ve been where you are.

The only difference is that I was already married when I hit that wall. ”

Wait.

“No,” I gasp. “Not Jim?”

Her slender shoulders lift with a quiet laugh. “Yes. My Jim.”

I choke on nothing but pure shock and my own spit. “Your farmer Jim?”

“Hmm.” She reaches calmly for her coffee while I spiral. “He has other talents.”

Farmer Jim, the man who brings us peaches in July and hugs me like I’m his long-lost niece every time he visits the office.

I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.

“Sex isn’t always about theatrics, Celeste. Sometimes it’s about trust. Presence. Stamina.”

My entire soul exits my body.

“Oh my God.” I slap both hands over my ears. “Do not say stamina and Farmer Jim in the same sentence.”

A small, amused smile quirks her lips. “You’d be surprised what people are capable of when no one’s watching.”

I drop my hands and gape at her. “You and Jim are members?”

“We were ,” she corrects. “But yes, we were frequent visitors.”

Frequent visitors.

What the fuck is happening?

I’ll need someone to wheel me out of here on a gurney.

“You are ruining everything,” I whisper-shriek.

“I’m expanding your worldview.”

“You’re traumatizing my worldview.”

“I’m gifting you a broader perspective.”

“You’re gifting me Farmer Jim in leather. That’s what you’re gifting me.”

Her expression is now positively serene. “You’ll learn that the people who seem the most conventional often have the richest inner lives.”

He milks cows, Lilian. But I don’t say that out loud.

“I’m not married,” I say dumbly, as if that will get me out of it.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to rediscover yourself and figure out what you want outside of work.”

“Lilian—”

“You don’t have to go,” she cuts in gently. “But if you decline, another invitation won’t come. It’s a one-time offer. That’s how it works.”

No second chances.

Dropping my hands to my lap, I fidget with the seam of my blouse.

This is insane.

Yet, that envelope remains in front of me, and I feel a pull toward it that I can’t quite understand.

“Think about it.” There’s a long pause before Lilian clears her throat and casually says, “Also, can you send me the updated files for the Blackwood & Calloway project by three?”

“What?”

“Blackwood & Calloway,” she repeats, looking perfectly calm. “The meeting next week? You wanted me to look at them?”

I open my mouth, then close it, flailing for language.

“Lilian, you just handed me an invitation to a secret sex club, and now you want to talk about floor plans?”

“Time management, Celeste. I’ve found focusing on work helps when you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

“Oh sure,” I mutter.

She finally breaks and laughs. “You’ll be fine. You’re resilient. Now I need those files by three.”

I rise slowly, take the invitation from the table, and walk out in a dazed fog.

Just another normal Wednesday.

Besides, if Farmer Jim can handle it, so can I.

Right?